web
by Teava
Summary: And ta da. The spider catches the fly. This little fly is all too willing to be devoured, though. [ItaSaku]


ItaSaku. Silly little oneshot.

I know it's not _love_, or anything. I'm not sure I even like him. The guy's a grade-a asshole with a big ego and no dick to back it up. I should despise him, for being the reason the boy I_ should_ be with is gone. Normally I wouldn't look twice at him but...

He's got those eyes that purposefully smoulder when you least expect. And that half-smile. When you look away red-faced, fidgeting where you sit, he knows that you're trapped because of that look he's perfected. Next he'll muse his hair, say something in a low, deep voice.

You shiver. He moves closer.

And ta da. The spider catches the fly. This little fly is all too willing to be devoured, though.

What I wouldn't give to be trapped in that web again. All I need is a reason. Any reason. Just so I can go running back to him with at least some of my dignity intact, even if at this point it feels like it's been completely stripped from me. Mostly because everyone knows, some mysterious way, how easily ensnared I was.

Everyone knows.

About the reason why I avoid any eye contact, or leave the room when they talk about any strategic plans concerning taking the Akatsuki down. The bruise-like hickeys on my neck. That smug little godamn half-smile on his gorgeous face. His scent left on my clothes.

Let them know. Let them gossip. I'll be content telling myself I don't care, and being aware that's untrue. They can all know THAT too. Thus I weave my own web; one of illusions, lies. Sometimes I'll tell myself nothing matters, nothing at all, but other times, though these are more rare, I'll tell myself I care so much I could die.

It's hard not to expect anything of him. Like a date. Ha, how silly. Like I'm some blushing little virgin schoolgirl. I don't look forward to a bunch of sweet nothings and false claims of undying love and passion. I'm not looking to be the top of his list of groupies. It's just that moment when we're together in a hotel room with no light other than the moon coming through the half-shaded windows, and the only sounds are the wind outside and our hard breathing.

I'm okay with that. Nothing more is needed. It's almost like having his love would be too much. Suffocating.

Sure, I'll tell myself that. Another little lie to try and keep myself mentally content. Or deceived.

My conscience must be really weak to need so much assurance that I'm the one using him, and I could leave any time, and I'd be fine without him. I don't need those black eyes or that lithe body or those hothothot hands that seem to be able to make any part of me ultra sensitive.

It, that stupid conscience of mine, needs to keep living in some strange fairytale I've created in my head. Whenever I start crying it immediately hopes against all else that he'll suddenly appear and comfort me. And declare that undying love that I apparently don't need according to... me. According to the defense system I've erected around myself.

I wish this wall I've constructed could be sturdier, because every time I'm with him a new crack appears, and one of these days it'll come tumbling down.

That day will probably come when he finally says goodbye, and _means_ it, or if Sasuke ever accomplishes his goal. Part of me anticipates it, like I'll be freed from whatever sticky trap he's ensnared me with, and that his brother will come and be the one to complete the fairytale dreams my conscience has, but... I think you can guess what the rest of me thinks.

Gods, do I hate him. Him, everything he is, everything he does to me, everything he stands for. For being perfect, for being so perfect. For being out of my reach.

Even when I'm right next to him, lying in the afterglow of the closest I'll ever get to being loved, he's so distant. All I see are the definition of his shoulder blades in the blue light, the black hair plastered to the back of his head. He's so close, but I understand he could be closer, that I could be in his arms. But I'm not.

And never will be. That kind of thing is unattainable. I want to accept it, but it's hard when you want more. When you want that fairytale love.

Turn around and take me in your arms.

Please. Please?

I feel like a little kid again, looking up at the night sky thinking the moon looks _so_ close. But when I reach my hand out to touch it, all I get is a fistful of air.


End file.
